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Jam-Packed Lessons on Love
What my Nan’s jam obsession taught me about relationships and the five love languages.
I have not one, not two, but three cupboards filled with jam in my basement. Raspberry jam, apricot jam, pumpkin jam, cherry jam, blackcurrant jam… You’ll find quite a few jars of apple muss and various juices in there, too. They are piling on top of each other gathering dust and waiting for this one or two times a year when I decide to make pancakes and actually open one of them. Basically, when it comes to jam, I’m sorted for life.
The reason behind all this jam is simple. My grandma loves me. And she has a garden with fruit. And her way to express love is through making jam and gifting it to family. Everybody in my family has three cupboards of uneaten jam dating back to the last century. Nan labels all jars meticulously, so we know the exact type and vintage of everything we are stubbornly not eating, because nobody in my family actually likes jam.
But there is no way to explain this to my nan. We tried to, but she just can’t seem to get how anyone could not want a fruity jar of delicious sweetness delivered straight from the heart. She is so happy and loving when she can give us another one that we all decided to simply thank her, smile, say how much we’re…
